


Motivation

by witchofpeachan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demon Dean, Gen, Other, Pets, Sam/Cas if you squint, Team Free Will, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, season 10, unbetad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofpeachan/pseuds/witchofpeachan
Summary: It very well could have been the end of Sam's world. Dean disappeared. He's gone, only a note left in his wake, and Sam's already at his wits end. And with his Grace depleting at a faster rate than either of them could anticipate, Castiel tries his best to keep himself and the younger Winchester afloat while they try to uncover where Dean could have possibly gone.Sam's already lost so much, and he's struggling to keep himself sane while searching for his brother, nearly destroying himself in the process. Becoming weaker as days pass, and Sam spiraling down a path the Angel can't watch him follow, Castiel makes a decision on a whim in an attempt to help Sam get back on a healthy path so they can find Dean, before it's too late for all three of them.





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this idea was supposed to be a fun One-Shot. And then it wasn't. Thanks for clicking, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I do!

Technically, it all started when Dean disappeared. He disappeared without a trace and Sam Winchester’s only clue to even know his brother was alive was a note, scratched in Dean’s handwriting, that said “SAMMY LET ME GO”.

 

Of course Sammy couldn’t do that. Not again, not this time. He already felt like he let his brother down before, and he wasn’t going to let himself this time. There was no room for running away and starting over, or just _letting his brother go_. 

 

Because Sam couldn’t. Sam Winchester would not - and could not - let his brother go. Whatever happened to Dean, Sam was determined that he wasn’t going to let him face it alone. 

 

And he had Castiel. Even with his depleting Grace, he tried his best to support Sam in his quest for Dean whether it was through his own searching or through going through notes with the younger Winchester. Each day he got weaker, and the two of them saw it. Neither of them said a word about it.

 

Sam didn’t sleep most nights. Not that Castiel did at all, but Sam was human; the angel couldn’t even corner him to trick him into sleep, knock him out with some Angel Mojo. He couldn’t even catch the Winchester at the right times, like the other could just tell what Castiel planned and did his damn best to avoid him at all costs. 

 

He’d hunt by himself and wouldn’t come back for a few days, and he’d only answer Castiel’s calls to stay on the line for a minute, then hang up without much of a goodbye. He was stressed and stretching himself thin until he couldn’t go on anymore, and Castiel couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

 

And while he tried, there was no sane way for Castiel to try and keep an eye on Sam 24/7, or to help him find Dean, while trying to remain alive. When his borrowed grace started to deplete faster, it began to deteriorate his health and the angel found himself being less and less helpful to Sam, both of them started to get hurt. He hung back in the bunker, hiding. When he couldn’t stand seeing Sam the way he was treating himself, he found a small apartment that no one would bother him (Later, this would be where Hannah found him to ask for help).

 

Time got lost: days turned into weeks and Castiel would call, Sam would pick up only to be reminded just how much time passed, how long it had been since he’d seen his brother. He’d forget to eat most days; his body would run on pure adrenaline and fumes. Alcohol didn’t count, and whatever he found himself swallowing would come right back up a few hours later, reminding him just how empty his stomach was.

 

There wasn’t anything dignifying in what he was doing. Castiel reminded him when he found strength to drop by; he couldn’t even look his friend in the eye at the scrutinizing squint of his gaze. The amount of clothes he wore clearly couldn’t hide anything from the angel. 

 

“Sam.” He cringed, turning his back to busy himself with filling his empty glass with a cheap Scotch. As his fingers found a hold on the glass, he noticed his hand shook with the effort to grasp it. His jaw clenched and he rolled his shoulders back, squaring them, determined to keep himself awake.

 

“Cass, I’m fine.” He could hear his own voice crack and break between the syllables. He cleared his throat after swallowing the alcohol in his glass before he ended up dropping it. “I’ll be okay - I just..” He needed to find Dean. Crowley had him somewhere, he was sure. Whatever was going on

 

He could feel the angel approach, the footsteps his vessel made he couldn’t hear very well. He was out of focus, over tired, hungry - and he didn’t care. Sam was determined, even if his effort would destroy himself in the process.

 

The room was silent aside from Sam’s breathing; it was getting louder and heavier than normal through exhaustion, as if the louder he was he could keep himself awake. He tried to lift his arm again to pour himself another glass, but a hand stopped him, gentle and firm against his forearm. Slowly, Sam looked up and was just in time to see the angel’s free hand come up to his face and he panicked. 

 

“Cass, no!” He managed to gasp before fingertips connected with his forehead, then he was out.


	2. The Real Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up.

When he came to, Sam rolled over on his side with a groan. Without even opening his eyes, he could tell he was moved from the main lobby-library area into his own room. A blanket was draped over him, and he was in the same clothes he was knocked out in. Cracking open his eyes, he saw the room was dark.

 

As he started to wake up, it became apparent to him in his assumption that Castiel knocked him out and dragged his unconscious ass back to his room to tuck him in, hopefully give Sam the rest he needed. It was sweet, definitely, and something he would have found oddly endearing (if not hilarious for the visuals. Dean would have laughed for days at the sight) if he wasn’t mad that he was wasting time. 

 

With another groan, he pushed himself onto his elbow and reached for the nightstand to his left to pull the switch. Across the room, he heard a shuffle and his attention snapped to the corner. The sudden movement earned him a dizzy spell.

 

“Sam. You’re awake.” Breathing slow so the vertigo stopped, Sam looked up towards the angel, slumped in a chair. His clothes were creased and messy, and he was hanging over the chair at an awkward angle. Furrowing his eyebrows, Sam pushed himself to side, arms shaking as he extended whatever energy he recovered with the movement. 

 

“Did you.. Did you sleep here?” He cleared his throat and frowned at Castiel as the angel shifted in the chair, legs crossing, and he leaned to the right. He hesitated, neck rolling to crack the vertebrae back into place before he answered, gruff and gravelly and slurred as he tried to get feeling back into his face (judging from the handprint on his face).

 

“I did, yes.” It made sense - someone had to carry him back to his room from the library. And as annoyed and angry that Sam was trying to be at the angel for interfering, he couldn’t stay that way. Just looking at the angel, he could tell his condition was getting worse. If Cass was up to snuff - granted, he didn’t know what the angel got up to - he would not have been resting in Sam’s room, that’s for sure.

 

With a heavy sigh, Sam hung one leg over the edge of his bed and scrubbed his face with his good hand. “Cass, how bad is it?” With their history, he wasn’t confident he’d be told the truth (None of them were ever one-hundred percent honest with one another. That’s all they ever asked for from each other, though. And trust.). What he got as a response, he expected. He was still left disappointed and concerned.

 

“Don’t worry about me, Sam. Leave me to be concerned with that.” Castiel shook his head, but Sam saw the small, appreciative smile on his face. “We both want to find Dean, but you’re exhausted.” Neither of them made eye contact with the other, like they knew their words fell on deaf ears. 

 

“I gotta find him, Cass. I-..” He stopped himself from vocalizing his own guilt and swallowed the lump in his throat. Slowly, the angel heaved himself from the seat across the room. Exasperated and exhausted himself, he straightened out his overcoat and spoke, careful with his words.

 

“I know, Sam.” He was hesitating, Sam noticed he did whenever he wanted to express empathy - something angels didn’t typically have (But over the years, Castiel got quite good at, especially after the Fall and his time as a human). “Just… At least take a few more hours. Get some strength back.” He suggested, hopeful.

 

Too tired to argue, Sam sighed again, eyelids growing heavier by the second. “Alright.” He surrendered, hands raising in defeat. “Okay, I’ll do that.. Only if you take it easy, too. Don’t use whatever’s left of your Mojo to jedi mind-trick me into sleep again or..Anything.” The angel canted his head to the side and squinted, uncertain.

 

“I understand.” They shared tired smiles as Castiel made his way towards the door and Sam curled back up on his bed, not bothering to move to change this time. Before the door closed and Sam fell asleep again, he heard, quiet and under his breath. “It’s not your fault, Sam.”

 

The door clicked shut and Sam was left with that in his mind before sleep dragged him down.

 

He dreamed of darkness, faceless people, black eyes, and mixed messages.

 

\---

 

Okay, it actually began after that.

 

Cass stopped visiting frequently. After their dramatic encounter, Sam noticed his health was getting worse. Maybe in the long run it was for the better - from what Sam could tell, Castiel was resting a lot more, as was he (not by much, maybe he’d let himself actually snooze on the table for forty-five minutes if he happened to be there).. Since the angel had his little intervention with him, he slept a few hours more a week and actually ingested something that wasn’t coffee or whiskey.

 

Despite warning signs and jests from demons and monsters, and with his extra sleep, Sam still continued in his search for Dean. Both of them knew he wouldn’t stop - part of him hoped Dean knew, too. He hadn’t given up on him like he had before. That guilt still weighed on him; he’d made his peace with it - they all did, but that decision would still trigger some guilt whenever those memories came up.

 

For all his efforts and plans, Sam’s path gave him a broken arm; nearly shattered, thanks to a demon. It’d been a narrow escape that he’d revisit later, after he visited a hospital to have it looked at. The injury wouldn’t heal until some time after he found his brother.

 

When Castiel saw the damage, he almost offered to heal it for Sam. Just give him some time and he’d be there, but Sam insisted he stay put. It was his injury to bear, his stupidity. Plus, the angel needed rest, and with his dwindling grace, that was next on Sam’s list - after Dean. He made it Castiel’s first priority to rest and figure out what he was going to do.

 

So, Castiel was the last thing Sam expected to see, ragged at the bunker door with a small cat in his arms and an older looking dog at his side. Sam - dressed for a midnight run since he couldn’t sleep - stared at the angel and his new company with wide eyes and mouth open before he could actually form words. 

 

“Huh?” But there really weren’t any words. The dog bowed its head and padded around Castiel’s feet. The angel looked up at Sam with a little bit of guilt. 

 

“I stopped for gas. They were at the station.” He explained. “I bought food for them.” Sam nodded a couple of times before stepping aside to let Castiel stumble in, offering his working arm as support. 

 

“And you.. Brought them here?”

 

“They are sickness free, if that’s what you mean.”

 

“Do they belong to anyone?” The kitten stirred in the angel’s arms as he hobbled down the stairs. It started to purr quietly, and the two of them stopped for a moment to listen. The dog stopped further down the stairs to look behind towards them. 

 

“No. Neither of them had collars, and he was taking care of her. I assumed they were both abandoned together.” They reached the bottom of the stairs and Sam reached for the angel when he teetered. He handed Sam the kitten instead. Carefully, he balanced the small bundle of fur in one hand. “I’ll get the food soon I just…” He trailed off as he slowly sat himself down in a chair.

 

“Cass I get it… Spend a bit here, okay? I’ll grab the food from the car. You brought the Pick-up, right? In the garage?” With the confirmation, Sam turned back around, up the stairs and to the door. He jogged, careful, through the tunnels the short distance to the garage, acutely aware of the small life in his arms. Little claws hooked onto his shirt and he stopped and stared; the kitten took the opportunity to look up at him with large eyes, then begin a climb to his shoulder.

 

“Hey- hey.. Easy..” He laughed, quietly, as if the cat would listen. She didn’t, and she wobbled on the perch of his shoulder, digging in with her claw so she was stable. Sam’s nose wrinkled at the unfamiliar and sharp feeling against his skin. When the kitten settled, he started walking again to find the food.

 

The whole ordeal was more of a balancing act than anything. It would have been easy - bend and reach - but the kitten didn’t appreciate the extra dip his body did and clawed onto the back of his neck. “Ah-- woah, hey!” He plucked her off with his good hand, and settled her on the sling of his arm. “There. Just.. Stay.” There was a larger bag on the back seat, and now with her lower vantage point, Sam could reach into the truck, grab the bag, then make his way back to the angel and the dog.

 

When he crossed the last step he looked up to see Castiel, awkwardly bent from his chair to pet the dog, its ears flopping with the little movement. He glanced up when he heard Sam’s footsteps. Silence weighed between them as Sam dropped the bag of food into one of the chairs at the table.

 

“Cass, why’d you bring these guys here?” He hesitated, head down to see what types of food the angel decided to get. Behind him, he could hear him shift in his own seat over the dog’s pants, probably just excited to be around people. Something inside Sam’s chest hurt when he realized he couldn’t keep either of them. He could barely take care of himself, let alone two extra lives. One of them looked like a baby, still.

 

“I.. don’t know. I was driving this way and thought to take them somewhere else along the way. They were closed.” There was a tone in Castiel’s voice that Sam couldn’t place, an uncertainty of himself. He frowned and looked behind him at Castiel, who’s attention was drawn to the dog again instead of the hunter. Carefully, he put the kitten on the table and she trotted around to explore. 

 

He scrubbed his palmed over his face a few times, thinking. It was too late for anything to realistically be open. Even the next day, Sunday, he didn’t think they would be. With his hands on his hips, he sighed through his nose and looked at the three of them - Castiel, the dog, and the cat. “Alright. Monday we’ll-- I’ll take them to a shelter. Maybe they went missing and someone was looking for them.” He could probably find that online.

 

He didn’t expect Castiel to tag along with him as he dropped off the animals. The angel was looking worse as time went on. The longer Dean was missing and not home, the more time that Sam spent looking for him and not helping Castiel. With Dean back, they could all help, like old times, and have three different perspectives. 

 

They agreed, Castiel with less protest than what Sam expected. Sam would go to the nearest shelter when they were open, meanwhile the two of them would get as much rest as they could between now and then. They would have a full day, at least, to putter around if they didn’t fully ‘rest’.

 

The last time Sam looked at the clock was 2:58 am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you liked Chapter 1 enough to read Chapter 2! So thank you for clicking! I have a few more chapters of this waiting for editing to be published so I'm hoping to get a chapter out every week-week and a half or so. Don't know when it'll be finished, so hopefully you'll enjoy the journey with me!


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